


Flapdragon'd

by vissy



Category: Georgette Heyer
Genre: Georgette Heyer - Freeform, Gideon/Gilly - Freeform, M/M, The Foundling - Freeform, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:04:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vissy/pseuds/vissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Ware returns home for the holidays and discovers that a simple parlour game is a serious matter indeed. Written with much recourse to the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue and containing one line stolen from Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flapdragon'd

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Luthien in the Yuletide 2008 Challenge.

It was near eleven when Gideon arrived at Sale Park, and Borrowdale's expression evinced sorrowful disapproval of the Captain's tardiness. Gideon laughed to see it. "Don't look so Friday-faced, Borrowdale, it don't become you," he said, as he shucked off his damp greatcoat and gloves and rubbed a hand through his whiskers. "Will I find the family in the Crimson Saloon?"

"Yes, sir. His Grace has not yet retired for the night," said Borrowdale, his tone heavy with approbation; the Duke remained a fragile bantling in Borrowdale's besotted eyes.

"Excellent," said Gideon. "What about my revered father? Is he still up and about?"

"No, sir," Borrowdale replied. "Lord and Lady Lionel have taken their rest."

"How obliging. I did time it nicely, didn't I?"

"Indeed, sir," Borrowdale said woodenly, and with admirable restraint. "His lordship is suffering, a little, from the gout."

"And the rest of the household is suffering with him, I don't doubt. No wonder you look so green about the gills. Poor Borrowdale, I do not envy you."

"His lordship was a trifle warm this evening, sir," Borrowdale admitted.

"Took a pet, did he?" said Gideon knowingly. "Well, I am sorry for it, but it could not be helped. My curricle threw a wheel and I had the devil of a time getting here at all. Shall I look in on him?"

"His lordship will be gratified to see you at _breakfast_, sir," said Borrowdale firmly.

"You recommend letting sleeping dogs be, eh?" said Gideon, grinning. "I will be guided by your wisdom and make straight for the Crimson Saloon without detour, and you may tiptoe to my mother's door and reassure her that her only child lives. Borrowdale, I _am_ peckish. Take pity on a starving man and rustle up some victuals for me, would you?"

"Of course, sir, but will you not wish to change your raiment?"

"Wragby's got all my gear, and he'll want to take care of the horses before he takes care of me. Don't fret, Borrowdale," he assured the shocked butler sardonically, "his Grace will not mind me in all my dirt."

Gideon strode through the long, empty gallery towards the staircase; he could picture his father standing before the blazing yule log, tapping an impatient (and undoubtedly painful) foot as he awaited his son's appearance at six. None of Gilly's soft-spoken assertiveness had yet served to relocate the household's assembly point to cosier quarters, but this vast and draughty hall would be of little comfort to a gout-stricken gentleman, tradition or no. Gideon contemplated the coming twelve night with amused resignation.

The sound of laughter reached him as he approached the reception rooms on the first floor, and his face softened even more, even as his heart quickened. "Don't announce me," he told the rigid footman standing ready to admit him. "I want to surprise them."

"Reckon you may get a surprise yourself, sir," said Francis, unbending a little as Gideon pressed a coin into his palm. "It's a bit dark in there. They're playing at Flapdragon."

"Flapdragon!" said Gideon with some surprise. It was a favourite game with some of the younger fellows in the regiment; one enterprising young lieutenant had set his own helmet alight last Christmas. "That must be a first for Sale Park."

Francis nodded sagely; Lord Stiff-Rump'd been carrying the cag tonight and no mistake, and he'd have six piglets fair enough if he guessed what mischief the little Duke were up to right under that great beaky nozzle of his. Still and all, it was a right pleasure to see his Grace chirping merry like that. He'd put aside his weeds long since, but cooped up and sore put upon the little Duke was, and Francis weren't the man to hobble any fun he could find. As for the Captain, Francis knew _his_ lay; a mutton monger he was _not_, Francis'd go bail, and any cod's head could see that he was sweet on his Grace: that was a hollow thing. If Francis could just keep old Gundiguts and Muffin-face off the scent, a rare bout might be on. The little Duke had been forced to fetch mettle for far too long; it was past time he had a decent seeing-to, and the Captain looked well-hung to Francis' discerning peepers.

Gideon did not pause to wonder what might be passing behind the footman's inhuman expression but opened the door as quietly as possible instead to find the oblivious merrymakers within crowded about the table, their laughing faces lit by the demonic blue glow of a bowl full of flaming brandy. A giddy Miss Scamblesby, having slipped Lady Lionel's admittedly gentle leash, clearly had the best of it, her neat little hands scooping raisins from the brandy into her mouth while the boys squawked and giggled. Their governess, a hatchet-faced and imperturbable woman named Miss Melkinthorpe, munched on her own hot spoils with an absurdly solemn expression, and the Duke lazed back in his chair, one hand in his pocket, in a style that Gideon realised, with a charmed start, mimicked his own. Gilly's back was to Gideon, but there was something in his relaxed stance that told Gideon he was content, and Gideon felt some dim but deeply-felt shadow lift from his mind.

The boys noticed him first, but he held a finger to his lips to still their shouts of welcome, and their matching grins widened with conspiracy. He snuck through the darkness upon stealthy feet until he was crouched behind Gilly's shoulder, and then, in a quiet moment as the two ladies became aware of his presence also, he hissed in a chill whisper: _"I am satisfied, miserable wretch! You have determined to live, and I am satisfied."_

Gilly gasped in fright, jumping from his seat while his companions burst into fresh laughter. "Gideon!" he cried, turning to face the culprit with knotted fists which relaxed as he beheld Gideon's own outstretched hands. Gilly grasped them firmly within his own and pulled Gideon upright until he was staring up at Gideon's crooked smile and shaking his head. "Oh, Gideon, you _fiend_! I should like to throttle you."

"I pray you will spare me," said Gideon. "So you still haven't forgiven me for lending you _Frankenstein_, Adolphus?"

"Never! And I will have my revenge somehow. I do not care how long it takes."

"I don't doubt you for a moment, my little one."

The ladies had risen, somewhat unsteadily, to greet him properly, and he gave each a smooth bow before his legs were snatched by a pair of hell-born seven year olds and his ears pelted by enthusiastic cries of, "Cousin Gideon, Cousin Gideon!"

"Peace, peace! Yes, I am come at last, urchins," said Gideon, laughing. "Did you think I should dare fail you? I value you my life too well!"

"Cousin Gideon, you're awfully late," said Lord Ormesby reproachfully. "What _kept_ you?"

"We were determined to wait up for you," said Lord Charles. "Papa said we might."

"P'raps you were held up by a highwayman?" Lord Ormesby interjected on a hopeful note.

"Or the Headless Horseman?" his brother suggested with bloodthirsty optimism.

"Just a thrown wheel, I'm very sorry to say. There's not a scratch on me," Gideon apologised, and the boys groaned in disappointment. "Adolphus, light a few candles that I might cast an eye over these specimens."

"I can scarcely imagine why you should want to," replied the fond parent, complying with an alacrity that put the lie to his words. "They are a wild and unruly pair. I have been giving serious consideration to having them auctioned off at Tattersalls, but who would have them?"

"Papa's only funning," Lord Ormesby assured Gideon, shaking his soft brown curls in a long-suffering manner.

"He is p'raps just a _trifle_ s'guised," observed Lord Charles confidingly. The brothers were the spit of one another, with something of Lady Ampleforth in their profiles and much of Gilly's mischief lurking behind their mother's guileless blue eyes.

These squeezed tight as Miss Melkinthorpe stalked up behind them, took an ear in each hand, and said in blighting accents: "I beg your pardon?"

This barbarous treatment was met with a chorus of disjointed apologies from the boys and soft laughter from their papa. He handed Gideon a cup of mulled wine and ruffled his sons' hair. "Ramshackle, are they not? I hope I am not a man to cry craven but I fear I am wholly outnumbered by these two, and as you can see they are already bidding fair to rival their uncle Charlie in inches when they are full grown. Luckily, Miss Melkinthorpe is not backward in giving a sharp set-down when required. I do not know where we should be without her."

"Fiddle!" said Miss Melkinthorpe stoutly. "There's not a bit of harm in them that a good night's sleep won't cure."

Recognising these words as a hint that bedtime was long past, the boys' shoulders sagged. "Cousin Gideon, you _will_ go riding with us tomorrow, won't you?" pleaded Lord Charles, his plaintive face speaking of endless hours of purgatorial confinement without a soul to care for his well-being.

"_Do_ come," said Lord Ormesby, his suffering no less than that of his brother. "There's something we _partickly_ wish to talk with you about."

"Harry, Charles, I am your obedient servant," Gideon assured them, struck as he was by the gravity of this behest. "So long as the weather stays clear and Miss Melkinthorpe can spare you, we shall take to our mounts and shake off the dust of Sale Park."

"_After_ service," Miss Melkinthorpe reminded them, and their shoulders drooped even further. "Say your goodnights, now, and no plaguing Captain Ware any more. Mrs Kempsey will be having fidgets with you two up so late."

"I shall accompany you, Miss Melkinthorpe," said Miss Scamblesby, draping a Paisley shawl about her shoulders and venturing a shy smile of understanding towards the Captain. No doubt he would appreciate some untrammelled moments alone with his Grace. Perhaps they might 'blow a cloud', as the Captain liked to say; a quiet titter escaped her at the thought.

The ladies between them brought about a remarkably swift retreat amidst both weary pouts and heartfelt embraces, and the gentlemen soon found themselves alone at the table, regarding each other curiously over burning flapdragons. "What a waste a good brandy, Adolphus," Gideon chided, as he waved a languid hand through the flames.

"What makes you think it is the good brandy?" laughed Gilly. "Shall I get you some?"

"This wine suits me well enough," said Gideon. The scent of mace nipped at his nose, and he took a deep draught, feeling warmth spread across his heart. "How festive this is."

"The immolation of one's offspring is a cheerful occasion indeed," said Gilly in his wry, gentle way, and Gideon grinned appreciatively as he watched Gilly scoop a raisin from the bowl and extinguish it upon his tongue.

"I feel it only fair to warn you, my brave little one, that Borrowdale has promised to bring me up some grub, and if he catches you larking about in this manner we will be quite undone by the heat of his disapproval."

"Oh, no! He will not betray me to my uncle," said Gilly with a fond certainty. "I have long wanted to play this game. And you have not yet tried your luck, Gideon. _Don't 'ee fear him but be bold -_"

"_Out he goes his flames are cold,_" Gideon chanted, puffing his cheeks out in a comical fashion as he closed his mouth about a hot raisin.

"Your whiskers are waggling," laughed Gilly. "And do I detect a trace of silver at last?"

"A snowflake, nothing more," Gideon assured him. "Here have I been, struggling through the snow to be by your side at Christmas time-"

"Coming it too fine! I would be astonished if there was above half an inch on the road. You, _dear_ Gideon, are turning to grey."

"Devil a bit," said Gideon with a grin. "I am a youngster yet, and you, my little one, are still in leading strings. I am sure Nettlebed would decree it so."

"If Weston could but be persuaded to turn his skills to short-coats, I am certain you are right," Gilly replied. "How comfortable this is. Part your lips, if you please, and I shall test my marksmanship."

"Charles was quite correct: you _are_ three parts drunk," said Gideon, but he opened his mouth obligingly, and Gilly's aim was true. His mouth full of sweet hellfire, Gideon bit down upon his raisin and discovered metal beneath the warm, sweet meat; Gilly had thrown him the lucky raisin.

"You shall have the reward of your choice," said Gilly, when Gideon showed him the gold button, and his normally soft grey gaze seemed to hold some fierce promise.

"I shall have to think on the matter," said Gideon seriously.

"I wish you will." Gilly's expression cleared as Borrowdale entered the Crimson Saloon, his arms laden with food and his face lined with gentle reproach. "Ah, here is your dinner! Thank you, Borrowdale, please put the tray down here and take this fire hazard away, as I know full well you are only too anxious to do. Gideon, note the presence of the Pope's nose upon your plate; Harry was adamant that it must be saved for your stomach, and a significant sacrifice it was on his part, as I am sure you will apprehend. Truly are you loved!"

*

Hardly had Gideon finished his generous portion when Gilly urged him outside into the chill air, where they lit up a pair of cigarillos and wandered towards the stables, their boots crunching upon the frosty path. "For I have another childhood ambition to fulfil, Gideon," said Gilly: "I wish to see the cattle kneeling at midnight!"

"I always thought that meant cows, not horses," replied Gideon absently, his attention upon the sky where a perfect puff of smoke from his lips circled the moon.

"I think it refers to all Christian creatures," Gilly said in an injured tone. "In any case, we do not have the time to be traipsing all the way down to the home farm to ogle bullocks, and you have only yourself to blame for that. No, the stables it shall be."

There was no light in the grooms' quarters, and only the low whicker of drowsing horses to greet them. Gideon took the cigarillo from Gilly's mouth and snuffed it beneath his boot heel along with his own; the stables were not to be treated with the same reckless abandon as the house.

Inside, he found near the harness-room his own matched pair well-curried and content, and he crooned at them softly while Gilly stroked their noses. "How gentle-mannered they are, Gideon! They did not take an injury today?"

"Not a bit of it; I am not so cow-handed as all that," said Gideon. "No, they took it quite in their stride, and without complaint. I've never had a finer set of cattle."

"That settles it, then," said Gilly, as he peered as his timepiece: "The midnight peal ought to begin shortly, and these are prime candidates for a proper genuflection! Let us keep a close eye on them."

The distant toll of church bells soon drifted through the night air, and Gilly quivered beside Gideon with a sort of absurd anticipation as they hung over the stalls. The horses were unmoved by rapture, however, and remained stubbornly upon their feet. Gideon placed a hand on Gilly's shoulder and rubbed it in commiseration. "It appears that mine are heathen beasts after all, my child."

Gilly reached up and took his hand. "You still call me that, after all these years."

"I am as bad as all the rest."

"Oh, no!" cried Gilly, drawing Gideon's fingers, somehow, across the beguiling stripe of smooth skin between neckcloth and raspy chin, and thence to his mouth. "You could never be."

"Adolphus!"

"Your finger is just a trifle singed, I think," said Gilly thoughtfully, as he ran the seam of his lips over Gideon's fingertip, again and again, before taking the finger inside his mouth.

"Adolphus," breathed Gideon. Gilly's lips pursed like a hungry babe's at suck, but the look he cast up at Gideon beneath the shy sweep of his moonlit lashes was anything but childish. "Adolphus, it is singed now."

He crooked Gilly's chin between finger and thumb and turned his small cousin's back to the stall, crowding him close. Gilly's grip faltered upon Gideon's wrist, his mouth relinquishing its scorching hold upon Gideon's finger, and Gideon cradled Gilly's face between his hands and covered his brandy-blistered lips with his own.

The bells seemed to ring louder in their ears, diving harum scarum through the changes. Gilly's head fell back beneath Gideon's, and Gideon cupped his fragile nape in a broad, possessive palm, supporting the precious weight. Gilly's hips lurched unevenly, trying to gain friction against Gideon's thighs, and Gideon hefted him higher against the stall and shoved an insistent leg between Gilly's own. "Gideon, _Gideon_," Gilly called imperiously, as his body shifted between muscle and protesting wood, and his fingers scrabbled at Gideon's back, trying for fistfuls of his coat, "_Kind_ Gideon, will you-?"

"I will, little one, I _will,_," Gideon answered him as, with a rasping laugh, he struggled to thumb open the broad fall of Gilly's snug pantaloons, even as his own tackle strained for release. Gilly's prick swived anxiously in Gideon's hot grip with an eagerness impaired by neither drink nor wintry weather, and Gideon yanked down Gilly's neckcloth and mouthed at his tremulous throat, forcing Gilly's tossing head to stillness. Gilly couldn't last but many minutes, and he came in his cousin's hand with a low, bestial grunt at odds with his sweet expression; Gideon milked the toss from him patiently, happily, until Gilly's damp brow drooped upon his chest and his nutmeg-scented breath gusted out in gratification.

"Oh, yes!" said Gilly finally, in quite his usual cheerful, absent manner, and Gideon felt an unspeakable joy that for such a change in their circumstances they must yet be safe in their unique connection. He pressed heady kisses upon Gilly's curls and wondered what Wragby might say once he saw the state of his master's coat. Gilly's fingers loosened only reluctantly, and that to tangle in Gideon's whiskers and pull his mouth down to his own and whisper, "Give me but a moment and I shall take you in hand, dear Gideon, as you have taken me."

"I would take you, Adolphus, if I may," said Gideon, gazing with hunger upon Gilly's upturned face and butting a pointed reminder against his belly.

"Shall you take a flourish with me then?" said Gilly with a shy fervour. "I have not done such a thing before, but I would have it done with you, Gideon, and your reward is mine to grant."

"Then I shall claim it with the greatest of pleasure," Gideon replied. He urged Gilly into a vacant stall, where bales of fragrant hay stood as if at the ready, and Gilly draped himself upon a stack of uncannily handy height and looked back over his shoulder with something like challenge in his eyes.

The pulse pounded thickly at Gideon's brow, and he rifled through supplies of tack until his impatient hands found a pot of neatsfoot oil. Gilly laughed shakily to see it and said, "You have no care for my dignity, have you?"

"I have told you before that this air of consequence ill becomes you, little one," Gideon teased, trying to set them both at ease. He pressed up behind Gilly and rucked his trousers down below his buttocks, feeling Gilly's soft, downy skin stiffen with a wash of gooseflesh. He reached about with one hand to stroke comfort against Gilly's trembling belly and daubed his other hand with grease, the better to spread Gilly open and ready for him. He split Gilly's cheeks with one blunt finger, teasing and persuading his hole for an entry, and when his fingertip finally slipped inside, Gilly slumped and groaned upon the hay. Gideon felt blessed by Gilly's willing trust and wholly absorbed in the sight and scent of his small cousin's comfort, frigging him gently, thoroughly, until Gilly was shoving back at him with inexpert but enthusiastic compliance.

"Oh, _please_," Gilly pleaded, over and over, until Gideon's forbearance found its limit; he unbuttoned his own fall front and drove his prick inside Gilly.

Gilly moaned in shock and Gideon paused for a long moment, his lungs heaving as Gilly's breath tumbled out and his legs shook in agitation. Gideon held to Gilly's hips, hushing them when they might fly and damning his own importunate pelvis. The choppiness of Gilly's inhalations slowly gentled, and Gideon whispered, "All right, Adolphus?"

"Quite all right," Gilly assured him stoutly, his hands kneading into the hay.

"That's the spirit," smiled Gideon. He shifted a little and bent his knees, thrusting further inside Gilly and forcing another choppy gasp from his startled cousin. "Game as a pebble. Ah, there it is, little one, there it is. I have you now."

He struck a rhythm that seemed to please Gilly immensely and listened with delight as Gilly keened a low, desperate counter to the pealing of the church bells. Gideon rocked inside him, drawing out the pleasure as long as he could while Gilly clenched and relaxed around him and frisked his rising prick against Gideon's palm. When a second climax was wrung from Gilly, Gideon let himself go, slapping upon Gilly's poor buttocks with blunt, visceral tension until he was grounded deep and sobbing out his long-held need.

He pulled out with an ungainly lurch that forced a yelp from Gilly, then muttered his apologies as he dabbed a handkerchief between Gilly's wet thighs. Gilly rested his brow upon his forearms and shook with laughter over Gideon's ticklish administrations until Gideon sank his teeth into his tempting arse and silenced his whoops. "Gideon!"

"Are you hurting, Adolphus?" asked Gideon, as he licked a stripe across Gilly's dimples.

"Nothing to signify," said Gilly politely, although when Gideon straightened to button their pantaloons and draw Gilly's weary head upon his chest, he amended, "I believe you will be taking the boys out riding without me tomorrow."

"Today, remember?" Gideon reminded him, as he pressed his mouth to Gilly's flushed face. "And what the devil do you suppose they wish to ask of me?"

"It is the same old question, I am certain: when is Cousin Gideon coming to stay for good?"

Gilly's eyes were sober and without much hope, and Gideon's chest tightened with the yearning from which he was never free. He tipped up Gilly's chin, kissing him tenderly until his eyes were smiling again, and said, "The answer is the same as it ever was, my little one: I will come to you whenever I can, for my home is yours, as is my heart."


End file.
